I hate my name. It’s not that I hate the name ‘Annamaria’ itself, I hate that for some reason people find it extremely difficult to say, with 90% of attempts landing on AnneMarie as if that is somehow a more common name. AnneMarie is such a frequent substitution that I’ve given up on correcting people and just go with it. When you factor into the equation that I can never find my name on one those “custom” gas station name trinkets (that I would never actually buy but find irritating on principle…) it’s a frustrating situation. Ironically, my entire family has always just called me Maria, so I’ve always gone by Maria, leaving me to explain to people during roll call and graduation that NO, Maria is not my middle name.

Did you know there is a color called ‘Millennial Pink’? Well, apparently this is it…it’s hard to be 100% sure though, considering millennial pink is continuously morphing to encompass a variety of shades. Although I am technically a millennial, I’m from the small sliver that still remembers when LIT meant high, “beat face” was an insult, and AF stood for Abercrombie & Fitch. As the second oldest of five kids, three of whom are under the age of 23, I am constantly reminded that I am out of touch with the “hip lingo” (this would probably also explain why I am only now learning the term millennial pink). The day I got Instagram was a real riot in my household, similar to when your parents get Facebook, however, the day I use “on fleek,” not in jest, will be a dark day in history.